.

*Choking on the laughter
that has run away to hide
Putting on a braver face
than what I feel inside

Blaming every tear drop
on the allergies I keep
Drowning in a puddle
only seven inches deep

Staring at the distance,
never seeing past the gate
Coming up with reasons
though I know it is too late

Pretending I am happy
like there’s nothing that I need
Writing her a poem
that I doubt she’ll ever read

Smiling with the sadness
so they don’t know it is there
Walking in a dance step
as if I am Fred Astaire

Waking every morning
with a sunset point of view
Acting like I’m still in love,
when I can’t be, without you

like a shy stranger marooned
on the shores of some strange place on earth
i tip-toe into my ailing heart
that vast land built of emotions
i hear the sick wind pining for freedom
and i hear the cry of a broken branch
weeping thick red tears where the cut bled
will be a while before i see other strangers
crying for lost opportunities and yearning
for the simple things of life

When rain had gone and dusk had fallen,
When birds had roosted and their chirping stilled,
When sky had cleared and the lone clouds trailed,
You held me close and whispered in my ear.

Your voice, like a tremulous rivulet gurgled,
With passion sweet, you did chant,
“In your eyes I see, the blue of the sky,
In your soul, you hold the depth of the seas,
Love swells, like tides on rise,
My life, I vow, by Jove, never to part,
On this dimpled cheek, a kiss I plant,
A gesture warm with abiding love.
Crisscross lain as warp and weft,
We together shall weave the garb of life”.

Words that served as balm to the soul!
Still they echo, gushing a flurry of thoughts,
But alas! To a far unknown land you fled,
‘From whose bourn, no traveller returns’,
To be wooed by a thousand glimmering dames,
Who peep down from Heaven’s insurmountable heights.


My life has mouldered and mildew grown,
Where my Love! Whither have you gone?
Who bid you slink into deaths secret hide?
Why left me to languish in Love’s solitary bower?

Seasons roll and years glide,
‘At my back I always hear,
Time’s winged chariot hurrying near’.
Youth has withered and memory fails,
But in my mind is etched deep,
That beautiful dusk, we rambled free,
When the rain had gone and dusk had fallen,
When the sky had cleared and lone clouds trailed.

Along the winding paths we roamed,
Two hearts musing a single lay.
Down the alleys, betwixt moss grown walls,
With hopes galore and dreams anew,
On we walked to the edge of the world,
A pair of dots merging in infinite space.

When rain is gone and sky gets clear,
When night turns deeper and silence creeps,
I transverse back to that dusky eve,
To retrieve those moments, I sadly cherish!

In my garden is a clean little pond
Fructified by tadpoles besides tiny fish
Where water lilies bloom by day
White and violet, a lovely sight

Over it hover pairs of dragonflies
They come in plenty on summer days
When the day is bright, soon after morn
To lay their eggs on lily pads
Like helicopters, they skim up and down
With their tiny propellers coming down
Sometimes like surfers over the aqua blue,
Perform rare feats, with brisk movements
Their filmy gossamer wings glistening in sunlight
And their bulging eyes reflecting iridescent shades

If ever we try to catch one…., sensing danger
They would rocket up, as fleeting flashes of light,
Into the air…. gliding and spiraling

Even in my sixties, whenever I spot a dragonfly
My mind catches up with those memories
When as children we chased them- ‘hush hush’
Trying to trap them while they perched on a fence or pole

How delighted we were holding them between our fingers
As they helplessly shivered thrumming their filmy wings!
Making them lift small stones double their weight
In their quivering thread like hands, a huge task for them,
Had been our greatest thrill then…!
Were we sadists……??
I still wonder!

At times I wander far….
Far away from all human habitats
Away from all prying eyes
Following the bent
Of my vagrant inclination;
Into Nature’s sylvan pockets
To places studded with trees
To the tranquil ***** of the woods
Or
Onto the heights of bald looking hills
Where shrubs struggle to strike root
From the cleft of rocks and ledges
Where in hollows, wild bushes grow in clusters

To watch the shreds of hovering mist
To gaze upon piles of sailing clouds
To shout loud and whistle long
And to listen to the hills
Mimicking my own sound

There I will hop and jump,
Like a sprightly forest fawn,
As I don’t fear
Either the silently gliding streams,
Or the clump of swaying trees,
The host of wild flowers,
Or the monstrous mossy rocks,
Either the birds or the beasts

Never will they watch my cranky pranks
And call me a loony
As here my own men might do!

i've spent many nights
waiting out storms, folded
away in my bathtub—

on the night that bullets
shredded through our
drywall, we held each
other there.

it reminded me of wind
and summer sirens and
the arms of my mother.